Tuesday, 19 August 2008

My Olympic Dream

Back in 1996 I was sitting just about where I am now, in front of the TV. I was watching the weight-lifting, which is my guilty pleasure spectator sport. Just as a throwaway, the commentator mentioned that women's weight-lifting would be introduced in Sydney in 2000. Remember, this was Atlanta. The official nadir of British Olympics, at least in my lifetime, with the only gold coming from the then Messrs Redgrave and Pinsent- the occasion when Steve said

If anyone ever sees me in a boat again they have my permission to shoot me

At the time I was reasonably fit. I swam regularly and occasionally worked out. It was less than a year since I had abandoned my short-lived jogging attempts. At 28 I was not past it, although, let's be honest past my best. I had long realised that I would never be fast or high. Hitting balls have never been my forte - diagnosis-by-internet of dispraxia. But I am physically quite strong, and enjoy muscle-building exercise.

I had an idea. I figured that, with four years of training, it would be wonderful to make Team GB for Sydney. The way I saw it, it was a brand new sport, all-comers welcome. I felt that relative age was not necessarily a disadvantage. For a few moments I dreamt about it. I thought I could do gym work before and after work, a bit of swimming. and, frankly, carrying round audit files is pretty good weight-training.

I went out to make a cup of tea and I thought more about it. I was working full-time. I was a Lambeth councillor, looking forward to re-election. My timetable was pretty full. Then I thought about the fact that I would have to get up early in the morning. I thought about other drawbacks. I realised that my Performance Report in the Evil Audit Empire would question my 'commitment' - one of the so-called core competencies, at least in those days. Then I thought, there's no point doing it if I won't win Gold. None of this ridiculous 'it's the taking part that matters'. I realised that that was very un-British of me, not wanting to be a plucky loser. I realise now, of course, that my attitude was the right one.

But for the rest of my life, I will wonder what would have happened if I had pursued my Olympic dream...

Still, I have some London 2012 work scheduled, which is going to make me feel part of it...

Comments

My Olympic Dream

Back in 1996 I was sitting just about where I am now, in front of the TV. I was watching the weight-lifting, which is my guilty pleasure spectator sport. Just as a throwaway, the commentator mentioned that women's weight-lifting would be introduced in Sydney in 2000. Remember, this was Atlanta. The official nadir of British Olympics, at least in my lifetime, with the only gold coming from the then Messrs Redgrave and Pinsent- the occasion when Steve said

If anyone ever sees me in a boat again they have my permission to shoot me

At the time I was reasonably fit. I swam regularly and occasionally worked out. It was less than a year since I had abandoned my short-lived jogging attempts. At 28 I was not past it, although, let's be honest past my best. I had long realised that I would never be fast or high. Hitting balls have never been my forte - diagnosis-by-internet of dispraxia. But I am physically quite strong, and enjoy muscle-building exercise.

I had an idea. I figured that, with four years of training, it would be wonderful to make Team GB for Sydney. The way I saw it, it was a brand new sport, all-comers welcome. I felt that relative age was not necessarily a disadvantage. For a few moments I dreamt about it. I thought I could do gym work before and after work, a bit of swimming. and, frankly, carrying round audit files is pretty good weight-training.

I went out to make a cup of tea and I thought more about it. I was working full-time. I was a Lambeth councillor, looking forward to re-election. My timetable was pretty full. Then I thought about the fact that I would have to get up early in the morning. I thought about other drawbacks. I realised that my Performance Report in the Evil Audit Empire would question my 'commitment' - one of the so-called core competencies, at least in those days. Then I thought, there's no point doing it if I won't win Gold. None of this ridiculous 'it's the taking part that matters'. I realised that that was very un-British of me, not wanting to be a plucky loser. I realise now, of course, that my attitude was the right one.

But for the rest of my life, I will wonder what would have happened if I had pursued my Olympic dream...

Still, I have some London 2012 work scheduled, which is going to make me feel part of it...